Capercaillie Eilean A`cheo Lyrics

Eilean A`cheo Lyrics

Ged tha mo cheann air liathadh,

 Le deuchainnean is bron,

 Is grian mo leth-cheud bliadhna

 Air ciaradh fo na neoil;

 Tha m' aigne air an lionadh

 Le iarrtas tha ro mhor,

 A dh'fhaicinn Eilean Sgiathach

 Na siantanan 's a' cheo. 

 

 Tha corr 's da fhichead bliadhna

 Bho'n thriall mi uait gam' dheoin.

 'S a chuir mi sios mo lion

 Ann am meadhon baile mhoir;

 Is ged a fhuair mi iasgair

 A lion mo thaigh le stor,

 Bu chuimhneachail mi riamh ort

 'S bu mhiann leam bhi 'nad choir. 

 

 Ach co aig a bheil cluasan

 No cridh' tha gluasad beo,

 Nach seinneadh leam an duan seo

 Mu'n truaigh' a thainig oirnn?

 Na milltean a chaidh fhuadach

 Thar chuain gun chuid, 's gun choir,

 Tha miann an cridh' 's an smuaintean

 Air Eilean uain' a' Cheo. 

 

 Nis, cuimhnichibh ur cruadal,

 Is cumaibh suas ur srol;

 Gu'n teid an roth mu'n cuairt duibh

 Le neart is cruas nan dorn;

 Gum bi bhur crodh air buailtean

 'S gach tuathanach air doigh;

 'S na Sas'nnaich air am fuadach

 A Eilean uain' a' Cheo. 

 

 The Misty Isle (Skye) 

 

 

 Although my head has greyed

 With forgetfulness and sadness,

 And the sun of my fifty years

 Has darkened under the clouds;

 My thoughts are filled

 With a great desire,

 To see the Isle of Skye

 The elements and the mist. 

 

 It is more than forty years

 Since I left you willingly,

 And I put down my roots

 In the middle of the city;

 And although I married a fisherman

 Who filled my house with wealth,

 You are forever in my mind

 And I long to be in your shelter. 

 

 But who has ears,

 Or a heart which beats with life

 Who will not sing this song with me

 About the hardship which has befallen us?

 The thousands who were cleared

 Deprived of their belongings and their rights,

 The desires of their hearts and their thoughts

 Are on the "Green Isle of the Mist". 

 

 Now remember your hardship,

 And keep your banner flying;

 For the wheel (of change) will not go round for you

 Without strength and hardness of fist;

 Your cattle will be in their folds,

 And every farmer will be happy -

 And the English would be ousted

 From the "Green Isle of the Mist".